Rendezvous
by Tyndall Blue
Summary: “We are of fire, they are of water. Both worlds are extremes.” He holds up his hands to emphasize how apart we are on the spectrum. I nod slowly. “And when two extremes meet,” he starts.“They cancel each other out.” MM, Yaoi, major OOC, AU
1. Contact

A/N: The basis for this story was actually originally in a dream o.O. From this dream a plot was created and I've turned it both into a fanfiction and an original piece of work. The original work was posted on my fictionpress account first because I was trying to move away from fanfiction at the time. There is much OOC action but because it is an A/U I like to believe I can get away with it.

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Our world is one of fire in midst of water. Everything that is here is hot; the air is hot, the sands are hot, and our souls burn. The buildings of our city stand tall in the desert, like pillars of hot white flame. People run to and fro on their busy happy business, and from my window I watch them, feeling the sandy grit of the window ledge on my legs.

On occasion, people look up to me and say things like "Edward what are you doing?" In response I shout down to them, "I'm watching the edges of the world." Then they will give me a puzzled look like I am mad and move on. I then ignore them and focus my eyes back on the horizon, watching the slice of blue grow wider on our black-sky, white-sand horizon.

Hours pass, and with a sigh I begin to slide from my window ledge, when I hear a familiar voice in the dusty street below me.

"Are you watching the edge of the world again?" It is Roy, looking especially charming today with his nicely pressed clothes. I nod at him and he just grins, standing there below at my front door. Roy likes to think he takes care of me just because I have no family. He lets himself in and I make my way downstairs.

Roy is a very strange person. I've heard people say cruel things about him just because he looks different, and whenever they do I yell at them. I crouch on a counter downstairs while he goes on unpacking food from his bag and putting it away. I can't understand why people would say he's ugly; I like how his eyes slant slightly and how dark they are, his face is a bit more squared and his skin isn't any lighter than mine.

I shift my position on the counter and the sand under my boots makes a loud scraping sound. This sound seems to bother people, including Roy, but I like it. He cringes and shoots me his "stop it" look, so I stop. I don't like making him mad because he has always been nice to me.

He is quiet as he moves around as he always does. I heard that he was once a member of and alien military. The way he moves is so fluid and unlike anyone else I know, especially my own sharp movements like licks of flame. If I didn't know better I'd say he's from the world of water which is threatening to invade us.

"So what did you see on the edge of the world today Ed?" Roy looks at me as he says this.

"I saw blue."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah," I reply, voice sharp and defensive. He pauses, hand halfway out of the cabinet.

"Have people been bothering you today Ed?" He sounds angry. I know he doesn't like it when people bother me.

"Maybe," I mumble, being what he calls "difficult." He sighs, setting down the bag, and running his hand through his hair.

"It's just because they're scared of you. You know that right?"

"Why are they scared of me?"

"Well you do keep telling them the worlds are falling together." He gives me a dry look.

"They are though," I complain and I give my best sulky look. Roy just shakes his head at me.

"I think I believe you, but no one else is going to believe you." He says, reaching over and giving my braid an affectionate tug, at least I think it's affectionate. Roy has strange ways of showing he's feeling affectionate. His legs brush mine as he moves past. I shiver, he always feels so cool and unnatural.

He continues to move about in his usual smooth manner, opening and closing cabinet doors as he puts things away. Despite the oddness I enjoy watching him move, swift as air, dark hair frizzed in the heat. I've never seen anyone else's hair do that.

"So was the sky really blue today?" He asks me teasingly, handing me something to eat. I take a bite, it's bitter and hard. I glare at him.

"Not all of it, only a little, but more than yesterday." I correct him. He gives me a cheeky grin.

"I hate to say it Edward, but you need a hobby. All you do is sit around and stare at the horizon all day."

"Shut up," I mumble around my excuse for a meal. I finish chewing and swallow. "Besides, aren't you worried at all?"

He just leans against a counter across the room from me.

"Not too worried. If it does happen I'm sure wonderful things will come of it." I just stare at him in shock. How could he possibly say something like that?

"What do you mean by that?" I ask, my throat and lips feeling stiff and uncertain. He crosses his arms over his chest and watches me curiously.

"We are of fire, they are of water. Both worlds are extremes." He holds up his hands to emphasize how apart we are on the spectrum. I nod slowly. "And when two extremes meet," he starts.

"They cancel each other out." I blurt. He frowns.

"You're right, that is possible. But couldn't it also be possible that there will be a happy median?" He questions. I don't know what to say to that. I glance out again to the far horizon of black sky and white sand with a line of blue between. I'm just hoping he's right. Roy begins to gather his things, getting ready to leave.

"Where are you going?" I ask hesitantly. Normally he would stay and we would talk or play a game together before dinner.

"Ed, I work today," he says smiling.

"Oh," I mumble. I keep forgetting that he just got a new job working at the library.

"Don't worry; I'll be back for dinner." And with that, he left. My house feels so empty with him gone.

I don't move from my spot on the counter, and busy myself by watching the hot white sun set. Shadows creep their way across my sandy floor, running their fingers across my countertop and skin. I shiver the same way as when Roy accidentally touches me. It's so cold in here when the sun goes down, so I leave.

The sands are still very hot beneath the bareness of my feet, and the city is behind me, the only city in this world. I stumble and my foot sinks deeper. My God's it's cold beneath the surface. The air itself is beginning to become frigid around me. The shadows to me seem icy and dangerous. They don't belong here.

I stand still, my heavy brown coat whipping about me, and look up. The sky is made of that cold hard blackness, like Roy's eyes. But unlike his, the sky seethes with blue, shades of cerulean shifting in and out of black. It is the reflection of their world upon our atmosphere that causes this.

As I continue to look up, I continue to move forward as well, the sands shinfting and sliding. There is no need to watch where my feet are going, because I know what is there. Sand, unfathomable stretches of it, right up the lips of the world, where even more sand pours in along with hot breaths of air.

My legs are tired, so I stop moving, eyes skyward and entranced. It's quiet out here, and very lonely, and so very pretty. That's why I noticed a rumbling building in the distance. It is not a natural sound, that much I know. There are headlights on the dune before me, I turn and look into them.

"Edward! What the hell are you doing out here?" Yells a familiar voice, from a familiar figure leaping from a patrol van. He runs over to me, ungainly and sliding in this sandy terrain. So awkward, so unlike Roy; this puzzles me.

He slides to a halt before, clasping both hands tightly to my upper arms. I don't like him touching me like this but I keep quite, because I do like him. His voice is very tense and strained. I assume that this means he was very worried but is now relieved.

"What are you doing out here?" He demands again.

"Walking," I reply casually. This answer does not seem to please him because his eyebrows furrow very sharply and he grimaces.

"Why?" I ask out of curiosity. He looks concerned again, but in a different way.

"I was just worried about you that's why," he says.

"Did your worry warrant a patrol car?" I ask. He looks nervous, then annoyed. He's searching for an answer.

"Just get in the car," he finally concludes, guiding me with a firm grip to the car. I'm not sure I want to get in, especially after the way I was being handled, but I listen to him anyway.

The ride home is an awkward one. He's annoyed, and I don't like the faces people make at me when they're annoyed. That angry one, that whenever you ask them what's wrong, and they say nothing, but you know they're lying. I hate people who lie, and it hurts to think that he might be lying to me.

He drops me off at my house. Normally he'd come in again for something to drink, but he's obviously too angry right now, and instead peels off down the road. It is desert cool inside, a disappointing feeling. I crawl under sheets, reveling in the feel of sandy grit. I writhe in it, feel it in my hair, sigh contentedly, and fall asleep.

Roy stops by early the next morning, giving me those cool looks that make me boil inside. The air feels dank and I feel angry just knowing he's the one breathing it. He's fixed breakfast for both of us. I eat it gratefully, and keep the conversation curt and impersonal. He does not ask me about the state of the sky, which I'm glad for because if he did I'd have to admit I hadn't looked yet this morning. He leaves, the anger subsides, and I wonder why I ever felt angry to begin with. I make my way to the window, and stare outside. There's the horizon, same as yesterday, blue seething between black and white. He came back later with a cake and a something lumpy wrapped in brightly colored paper, I had forgotten it was my birthday.

"Ed?" His voice is quite and hesitant. I make a soft sound so he knows I heard him. "I'm sorry Ed"

"Why? You didn't do anything." He looks even more bashful.

"I know you don't like being touched. I'm sorry I grabbed you. I was just upset." I fiddle with the paper, not quite sure where to begin solving this puzzle.

"I don't mind you touching me." I mumble, having found a tab of tape. I tug it and the gift practically unfurls itself in a flash of rainbow.

"You don't?" He sounds extremely surprised. "No, just warn me first. Okay?" Before I catch it the gift tumbles to the floor with a breaking sound. I just stare at it, making no motion to rummage for the picture through the glass. It's of something soft and blue, with sensuous appeal. It looks like that slice of blue that sits atop the sand-dunes and nestles below the sky. A Roy is wading in it, bare-chested with a girl whose features are strikingly like his.

"She's my sister," Roy explains. I nod, it must be so.

"Where are you?" I ask. I cannot discern the frothing blue substance that curls and ripples behind them. I watch his face. A slow, curious, twisted version of a smile spreads across it. He's upset; my chest starts to hurt and something like dread settles there.

"That's back home." With a sigh he gets up, reaching out to tug my braid in a reassuring manner. I relax a bit. "I made you a cake, let's have some." I hate his cake, it's moist and cool. A sick bastard-child of what a cake is supposed to be, but I eat it because it makes him happy. Roy hasn't seemed very happy at all lately.

We move into the kitchen again, our most familiar place. I like this room because it gets the most sun; Roy seems to like it just because it's a kitchen. He hands me a plate, my fingers touch his; they're painfully cold. I set down the plate.

"Give me your hand," I order. He seems shocked at first, then sets down the knife and does so. I curl them into mine, trying to warm them up. He stands there quietly while I do so. "Why are your hands so cold?" His palms and fingertips are soft, which is surprising. He keeps quiet. He's looking down, eyes darting left to right. He licks his lips, mouth working nervously.

"I'm nervous Ed," he confesses quietly.

"Why?" My grasp turns from consoling to possessive; more nervous lip-licking.

"Don't go into the desert at night Edward, please," he begs. When he begs me I can't refuse, but I still question him. "It's not safe out there for you." His eyes are dark and deep. I concede to his request silently with a nod of my head. I really want to know why it isn't safe. I want to know why he was in a military car, in full uniform when he picked me up. Then he leans up and kisses my cheek, which leaves me stunned and vulnerable, and whispers a relieved murmur of thanks in my ear, before sitting back in his chair. I felt bad, because I knew I was going to break my promise.


	2. Recognition

**Chapter Two: Recognition **

I enter the kitchen the next morning and Roy is there. He gives me an unshaven smile while he rummages through the freshly stocked cabinets. I move past him, taking the sunniest path across the kitchen, and perch in the window. I sigh as I feel the sandy ledge grate beneath me and my eyes focus on the familiarity. The blue has grown overnigh, stretching itself into separate arms. I watch them waver, shift, and pull, and I feel recognition deep in my chest, a painful one that should be obvious. But I often feel this way about many things.

"Ed, did you really forget that it was your birthday yesterday?" He inquires, mumbling around a mouthful of food. I turn to face him, a bit puzzled at first, but then I remember the cake.

"Yeah, I did. Why does it matter anyway?" I watch him closely, attempting to gauge the significance of this conversation.

"Well you didn't forget last year," he observes.

"That was because you wouldn't stop talking about it the whole week before," I tell him, giving him a rather dry look.

"You were turning 18! I couldn't just ignore that," he sniffs defensively. The topic dies there, and I turn back towards the window.

Roy departs from the room with a clatter, dropping a supposedly tempting breakfast on the table. He's always telling me I'd starve if wasn't for him. I just don't like eating. He also claims to be a good cook, or he used to claim it. He stopped telling people that because I'd laugh every time. When I found out he was serious I felt bad, I just thought he was trying to be funny.

I apologized, but I think it still may be a sore spot for him. I try not to dwell on these unimportant things; there are more important things at hand. My eyes unfocus, taking in everything ahead of me and nothing around me. The whole of desert swells, spitting out the black sky and in fountains that blue, the maddening blue.

"Edward?" It sounds like a mumble.

"Mn."

"You okay?"

"Mn."

"You haven't eaten your breakfast," says the voice in a soft hurt tone. I am relaxed and comfortable.

"Mn."

"Edward, if you don't snap out of I'm going to touch you." It's all garble and mumble. I can hear the words but my mind cannot find their meanings. Words are so annoying with their meanings.

"Mn."

"I'm going to touch you now," warns the mumbly monster.

Then the swirl of black and white disappears and there's a cold pressure around my chest and chills traveling down my back.

"That's it; I'm getting you out of here." Roy sounds angry again, and I'm too surprised to struggle, so instead I shout my protest. "You need something else to do. This isn't healthy." I feel incredulous and angry, but that was the end of the discussion. He is determined and if I refuse, he'll grind me down till surrender, even if it takes days. Judging by the sky, we don't have many days left.

His body is still firmly against mine as he pulls me down the stairs. He is too rough and I am afraid of falling, so I bite him. The startled cry pleases me, I am angry at the loss of my dignity. I stride ahead, and lock up my front door. One time someone broke in while I was gone. Nothing was taken, but they broke many things. I did not mind, I never use anything, but there was fuss from the neighbors. I do not like fuss, and all the people that come around when it happens. One woman brought me dinner because my pots were broken. I took it, but I didn't eat it. Her cooking is bad too.

Roy waits patiently while my mind is distracted, holding his car door open. I contemplate running for it, but that would make Roy angrier, with considerable and showy reluctance I get in. The air inside is boiling and it calms me slowly. He sets it to cool, blasting it. I don't argue, because he has never done that before. I am still angry, but I am concerned. Roy seems stranger than usual.

" Roy?" My voice sounds strange to me, stilted.

"Mn." His knuckles are white and he's driving fast enough to kick up clouds.

"Are you okay?" The whiteness in his joints dissipates, color rushing back to the area. The car slows, and he exhales a heavy breath. I feel better, Roy angry is something uncontrollable, or so some people on the street say. I heard he broke someone's arm once; it's an exciting thought really. My eyes are still locked on him. His face is smooth from his shave, to make him look younger is what he tells me. There's a crease between his eyes that only appears when he is tense and troubled. I want to smooth it out with my fingers.

"You—looked like you were going to sleep again." I can't bring myself to reply, because it felt like I was going to sleep again. I try to smile when he gives me a worried glance. I must've been smiling because he did so back.

"I'm not going to go to sleep again. I don't even feel tired." I make my tone sympathetic, emulating all the concerned people in those movies Roy sometimes made me watch. He laughs softly, slightly strained, but the crease between his eyes disappears. "Where are you taking me?" I do not recognize this area of the city. The sand here looks darker and cooler.

"To my house. You're going on vacation." He looks satisfied. It's the small victories that matter most to him.

"Where are we?" He gives me one of those brief surprised glances. He should know that I never leave the house save for at night.

"You've never been in the basin before?" More surprised blinking. I look out the window again. We are on a slant, pointing down. I knew there was a depression on the other side of the city, but not one this great. He opens the window. "The temperature is more reasonable here," he says with a grin. Being back home apparently is making him far more comfortable. I continue to survey my surroundings.

It isn't that different from the area that I live in. The houses are built in the same manner, sand still blows up and down the streets. I manage to even recognize a few storefronts. Then I realize the glaring error, what is missing, is the horizon. The sky stretches out overhead, dipping into the rows of houses and towers, and then vanishes. There isn't a speck of blue in sight. I'm sure Roy is very pleased with my display of shock as he parks in the alley beside his apartment.

"I live on the second story," he purrs smugly. I bite back a complaint. I can defy him tonight, and slip out undetected. He guides me inside, and I am disappointed by the cleanliness of the complex. I sure Roy's room will not be any dirtier, but no matter, I bring the desert will me wherever I go. Roy's swears I sweat sand in my sleep. It's the only way to explain the state of my home.

I receive a standard tour because I have never been in his home before. I have to admit I feel out of place at the vastness of our differences. The entirety of his apartment is clean and cool with a surprising lack of books considering his occupation. The sheets on his bed are soft and his walls are the color of the blue in the sky. There are more pictures on his mantle; they are pictures of things that you would see in any person's house. Someone once told me there is a lot you can learn from these pictures and since I do not know Roy that well, I make a point to study them closely. It is strange that I cannot even remember a time without Roy, but still know so little.

There are more pictures of him and his sister, some with other members of his family as well. Nothing in the background looks familiar though, especially the ones with more of the soft blue. Recognition shifts places in my brain again, circling closer to the surface. In one they are standing in front of something green that was spiking from the ground. The bizarreness of its appearance made me laugh aloud. Laughter quickly turns to shock as Roy administers a soft tug to my braid.

"Being nosy now?" He asks, quirking a suspicious brow.

"No I'm not. These are sitting out in plane sight," I retort. I didn't mean to be cheeky, but I know that is was what it sounded like. He sighs softly, releasing hold of my hair. I shudder as his fingers brush down the small of my back accidentally. The room feels warmer now, and I feel strangely flushed. He moves away, walking around the room to tidy up a bit more.

"There anything you want to do," he asks casually, and I start to open my mouth, but he cuts me off "besides go home." He eyes me meaningfully. I sulk and move to a window before I realize that there was not much point. His eyes are still on me as I continue to stand there, still feeling petulant and not wanting to allow him the satisfaction of seeing me realize my error. My eyes rove over what little I can see, trying to formulate some plan of escape. A door lock sounds behind me; it doesn't surprise me that he senses my intentions.

"Do you not trust me?" I ask, turning to face him. He looks a bit surprised, but there isn't a trace of confusion of his face.

"Honestly, no. I don't trust you to stay here all night voluntarily," he replies as he moves to a closet, finding fresh sheets. I stand there still, watching his front door as his footsteps move down the hall and into the guest room.

That night I paced the guestroom floor for hours. My mind was in turmoil; I could flee this room easily since my bedroom door was left unlocked. On the other hand I'd be letting Roy down, the thought of his anger frightens me, and the thought of his immense disappointment brings about feelings that are still unidentifiable. My intense deliberation brings me to one conclusion; I just need to be sure I return before he awakens.

My feet easily find their way to the desert, only having to scale a rather impressive wall holding back the sand to get there. Outside my lungs savor the fresh air, though here it feels strangely heavy, and my eyes take in the sky. I continue my steady pace forward, pleased to find the air here calmer. My eyes are to the sky, taking in the vastness of blue here at the edges of the world. There is nearly no black left to be seen. It to takes up most of the sky here, the long slender fingers prying their way into our world. Can the others really not see this?

A strange sound comes to my ears, a rustling like beetles skittering over sand, and the ground feels softer. I look down in confusion, and then stare in amazement as the green shoots from the photo. Instantly my fingers reach out to investigate their surface finding them soft and very smooth. My hands continue to roam their tops as I wander deeper and their numbers are denser. In a fit of paranoia I glance behind me. The lights of civilization are no longer visible, and I am surprised at the distance I have covered, but time moves strangely out here.

Ahead I can see something glinting and an oddly familiar smell reaches my nose. My hands begin to tremble, and my footfalls take on a hesitance. I am scared, and I do not know why. It is soft, and it is shifting, and it fills a hole in the ground before me. I kneel, my whole body beginning to tremble, and explore its surface. It ripples and breaks, my fingers finding little resistance. I shudder, feeling inside, it is damp like the shadows. I pull my hand back and move to rise, when I hear a crack and feel pain blossom in my skull. Then there is nervous shuffling, and the feeling of dirt against my cheek.


End file.
